


Easy as Pie ( Or not)

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Slow Burn, Year 4 (Check Please!)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Where Whiskey is good enough to get drafted during his junior year and plays for Vegas, but he has no clue what he's doing, so Kent Parson Helps him.(Or: Kent Parson accidentally falls for Connor Whisk becahse he's so much like Jack Zimmerman.)
Relationships: Connor "Whiskey" Whisk/Kent "Parse" Parson, Kent "Parse" Parson & Connor "Whiskey" Whisk, Past Kent "Parse" Parson & Jeff "Swoops" Troy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. I don't really know a lot about love, a lot about love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from About Love by MARINA

  
"Whiskey, something came in the mail for you today." Foxtrot says, placing the envelope into Whiskey' s hands as he walks back into the haus after his last class.

Whiskey waits until he gets into his room (Bittle's old room) to even think to open the envelope.

Then he gets a closer look at the label, and almost has a hear attack.

_NHL players association._

Whiskey tears open the envelope, and skins past all the nonsense, right to the bottom _,_ where it says that there were scouts at his last game and they want him, _him!_ To play for Vegas.

He almost chokes on his spit, and practically tumbles down the stairs. "Ford!" He hollers, breathless. "Ford, look at this!"

"Jesus, Whiskey. I think that's the most I've ever heard you say." Ford says from the kitchen.

Whiskey shoves the paper at Ford, but doesn't say anything.

Ford reads it slowly, so slowly that Whiskey has to lean against the counter and scoff.

"Connor James Whisk."

"That's not my middle name."

"Connor Whisk." Ford repeats. "Whiskey. Do you even know how big of a deal this is-"

"Hey ya'll!" Comes Bitty's cheerful voice.

"Oh. That too. Sorry Whiskey. I forgot to tell you that Bitty was coming to visit this weekend." Ford waves her hand.

"Oh, what, so he can NOT watch me play on Saturday because I have to fly out to Vegas then?" Whiskey says, suddenly filled with more words than ever.

"Woa, Whisk, what's gotten into you?" Bitty asks, setting a bunch of pies down on the kitchen counter. "Family issues?"

"No." Ford interrupts. "NHL issues."

"Oh, you're going to an Aces game?" Bitty asks, already beginning to slice the pies. "How fun."

"No. I'm going to play in an Aces game. Maybe. I don't know yet." Whiskey says. "Can I have some of that pie?"

Bitty drops the knife. "Connor Whisk!"

"No seriously, keep cutting the pie, I want some. That's my favorite," Whiskey says, reaching for a slice.

Bitty swats his hand away. "You can have a slice when you tell me why you think you're playing in Vegas."

Whiskey shrugs, and sits down at the kitchen table. "I got a letter. Ford, show him."

Whiskey let's Ford take over while he thinks. Why would He has want him? Of all people, why the kid from Samwell?

"Huh." Bitty's voice breaks the silence. "You'll be playing against Jack. An ally."

"Yeah..." Whiskey says, feeling himself retreat to quiet once more. "I guess."  
  


Whiskey gets no sleep that night between packing, worrying, emailing Vegas' PR, worrying, and wanting to die.

Did he mention worrying?

This is one of those rare times where he wishes Bitty's mothering skills would kick in, and he would come tell Whiskey that it was alright, like that time he made out with that lacrosse boy.

He might not always show it, but he doesn't dislike Bitty.

Whiskey doesn't find out until the morning where he's staying.

Whiskey probably thinks he'll just get a hotel, but when he gets a text from the man, the myth, the legend, Kent Parson himself, he almost loses it.

 **Unknown number**  
Hey, this is Kent Parson. Management gave me your number.  
They also told me to tell you that you're staying with me. I hope you don't mind.  
I mean  
No, wait  
I don't know.  
I'm sorry that came across rude

Whiskey adds the contact to his phone.

 **Connor Whisk**  
It's fine

Whiskey doesn't feel the need to say anything else.

He's too freaked out. Whiskey is horrible at this type of shit.

He's scared out of his mind.

He practically breaks down in the kitchen when he sees that Bitty is awake.

"Did, I, did I wake you?" Whiskey asks quietly.

"Oh, no, hon. I figured you'd be nervous, so I made you some coffee and fixed you up a slice of the maple brown sugar pie." Bitty says, pointing to the table.

Whiskey tries to hold it together, but a few tears leak out. "I'm going to be fine, right?" He asks Bitty.

"Well, I can't tell you that, but what I can tell you is that you are getting a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you have to take that chance."

Whiskey forgets why he likes Bitty so much. He's so caring, for everyone.  
  


Whiskey gets on a plane at the Boston airport.

So far he's only had one person ask if he was Connor Whisk. So far so good.

When he lands in Vegas, it's a whole 'nother show. Whiskey has no clue what he's doing, or where he's going. He just knows that Kent fucking Parson is picking him up at the airport.

Yikes.

Whiskey stands at his terminal, feeling awkward as hell. _What am I doing here?_ He thinks, fidgeting with his backpack strap, and looks at the swirly carpet pattern.

"Hey," he hears. "Are you Connor Whisk? I think you're supposed to come with me."

Whiskey snaps his head up, coming face to face with Kent Parson.

"Oh, wow, you're-"

"Kent Parson. Nice to meet you." Kent sticks his hand out, smiles, and Whiskey shakes it. "Don't worry. It's not as scary as it seems."

"Okay," is all Whiskey finds himself saying.

Whiskey follows Kent through the airport, and tries to keep a safe distance because people are probably confused as to why this stick of a kid is following Kent Parson.

Whiskey stays quiet as Kent drives. He wants to ask questions, but then he doesn't.

"You're a quiet kid, huh?" Kent says as they pull into his driveway.

Whiskey nods, realizes Kent can't see him, and actually talks. "Yeah, I guess."

Kent's house is huge. Whiskey doesn't say anything, because he doesn't want to be rude, but Jesus.

Whiskey trails behind Kent as he leads him to a bedroom. "This one is going to be yours." He says with a smile, and turns on the light.

"How long am I going to be here?" Whiskey finally finds the courage to ask.

Kent looks confused for a moment. "I mean, the way management put it, I think you're going to be here for a while."

"Oh. Neat." Whiskey says, setting his stuff down.

"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Kent asks softly. "It's okay if you aren't. I wasn't when I came here."

That's the first nice gesture Whiskey has had in a long time. He doesn't get that a lot from strangers at Samwell. "I, I think so? I mean, I'm kind of scared." He says honestly.

"That's okay." Kent whispers. Thanks for being honest with me. It's been a while since I housed a rookie like you."

"Oh?" Whiskey asks. That's his way of saying 'what were they like' and Kent knows it.

"A lot of them were bigshots who went out and drank on weekends and got in trouble with management." Kent tells him.

"I don't drink." Whiskey whispers, the words just falling out of him.

"Good. Neither do I." Kent cracks a small smile, and just maybe, a little bit, Whiskey thinks that this might turn out better than expected.


	2. Whiskey IS NOT going to turn out like Kent. (Maybe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whiskey is shy and reserved, until he's not, and things are changing too quickly for him.

**Kent**

**Parse**  
He's quiet.  
Should i be scared?  
He's not like the rest of them.  
 **Gravy**  
No.   
Not yet, he's probably just scared, since this happened out of the blue.  
 **Reddie**  
Really?  
Been a while since you've had a quiet one.  
 **Swoops**  
Parse was quiet. He cried a lot though, and I had to take him to therapy.  
 **Parse**  
Not relevant.  
Whisk is so unlike the rest of them were.  
He barely talks, but he seems okay.  
 **Swoops**  
Hooks was kinda like that.  
 **Hooks**  
No i wasn't. I went out and drank and partied.  
 **Parse**  
Whisk doesn't drink.  
 **Swoops**  
Neither do you. Aw, look, a perfect match.  
 **Parse**  
Fuck off.

Kent worries about Connor more than he probably should, but Connor never comes out of his room, unless it's for food.

He texts Jeff a lot.

 **Parse**  
Was I like this?  
Did I stay in my room all the time?  
 **Swoops**  
For about the first week, then all you did was cry.  
 **Parse**  
Fuck. I don't know how to deal with a me.  
 **Swoops**  
If you need help, I'm here. I had to deal with you.  
 **Parse**  
Yeah, but we made out like, three times. Then we dated for a month and broke up. I don't want that to happen with Whiskey.  
 **Swoops**  
You named him without us?  
 **Parse**  
Besides the point. I'm not going all comforting dad on Whiskey and then dating him.  
 **Swoops**  
Crisse, Kent, that was seven years ago. You were eighteen then. Now you're twenty six.  
 **Parse**  
I'm old. Whiskey's like, twenty one.  
 **Swoops.**  
Make boundaries then.

Kent doesn't want to make boundaries. He likes Whiskey enough to not yell at him yet, but when Connor falls asleep on the couch next to Kent the second night he stays with Kent, He knows he might have to set boundaries.

**Whiskey**

On the third day of being in Vegas, they tell him that they want him on the ice at six am.

This is completely new territory for Whiskey.

They give him a Jersey, one that says _Whisk_ on the back, Whiskey brings his skates and his stick.

Kent realizes that this will be the first time Whiskey is meeting the team, so he walks into the locker room first, making sure that Whiskey is okay.

Whiskey walks right in though, even if everyone is staring at him. "Uh, hi?" He says.

"Awh, Parse, he looks just like you." An older guy says.

"Stuff it, Gravier. No he doesn't." Kent says, turning his attention to taping his stick. "Whiskey, you can put your stuff over there. Don't let any of the guys give you crap, okay?"

Whiskey does what he's told.

"Hey Parser, how come you weren't ever that nice to me?" A guy with short light brown hair says.

"Same goes for you, Hooks. Stuff it."

Whiskey sits down, drops his head into his hands, and sighs. After all these years of playing for a college team, Whiskey still gets drained easily by the commotion of people.

"Whisk, you good?" An older guy asks.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You'll be fine. Don't worry." The guy says. "It only gets better." He winks at Kent.

"Jeff, don't take my rookie." Kent threatens. "I'll beat you with my hockey stick."

"Kinky!" The guy named Hooks yells, and the entire locker room erupts into laughter, even Kent.

Kent smiles at Whiskey, a glimmer in his eye. "You'll get used to it."

Whiskey does get a little used to it. What he isnt used to, is when the coach tells him he's playing a shift in tomorrow's game against the Schooners.

"Already?" Whiskey tells Kent. "I mean, I just got here two days ago. Am I just supposed to drop out of college? My fucking parents don't even know."

"You're good, Connor. Of course they want you to play." Kent says, walking out of the kitchen.

Whiskey wants to tell him that he wants to talk more, but gives up when he hears Kent's bedroom door close.

Whiskey quietly walks back into his room, and is surprised to see a text from Tango.

 **Tango**  
Had fun at the game tonight! We won! Bitty's saving you some pie for when you get back.

Whiskey tries to swallow the lump in his throat. How is he supposed to tell his linemate and best friend that he won't be back for the foreseeable future?

Whiskey wants to cry, but he can't cry on command.

He texts Bitty, outside of the Samwell group chat where they usually text.

 **Whiskey**  
Bitty?  
 **Bitty**  
Whiskey?  
 **Whiskey**  
Bitty, how do I tell Tango I probably won't be back for a long time?  
 **Bitty**  
How long will it be?  
 **Whiskey**  
Idk. I'm playing a shift in tomorrow's game.

Whiskey doesn't mention that he'll be playing on Kent Parson's line.

 **Bitty**  
That's awesome! I'll be cheering for you! As for your Tango problem, do you want me to tell him?  
 **Whiskey**  
Please please  
 **Bitty**  
Sure thing.

Then Whiskey does cry. Loud, heaving sobs.

He cries until he think he can't take it anymore. He wanders to the kitchen, opens the top cupboard door, because of course, after three days, he knows where Kent keeps his vodka, even if he doesn't drink, because he claims it's for Swoops.

Whiskey doesn't usually drink, especially not at kegsters, but he needs something.

He pours himself an entire glass.

**Kent**

Kent wakes up to a banging sound in the kitchen. It takes him a couple seconds to realize it's Whiskey, and that he should check on him.

Kent bolts out of bed, running across the house.

He finds Whiskey crying on the kitchen island over a- is that Vodka? Jeff's Vodka?- full glass.

Whiskey doesn't see him, so Kent watches as Whiskey downs half the glass.

He pulls out his phone and texts Jeff.

 **Parse**  
Come over now  
I think somethings wrong with Connor  
 **Jeff**  
What happened?  
 **Parse**  
This kid poured himself a whole glass of vodka  
He's crying  
Help.  
 **Jeff**  
Omw

Jeff arrives quickly, walking in through the back door, because he'd have to cross the kitchen if he came in through the front door.

**Whiskey**

Whiskey feels buzzed after two sips, but now he can't stop crying.

Fuck this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitty got nicer about Whiskey playing for the Aces. Yay!


	3. Whiskeys GOT this. Or so he hopes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whiskey hits the ice for his first game.

Whiskey eventually calms down, with Kent and Jeff's help, which he shouldn't need. He's twenty one. He eventually falls asleep on the couch, his head in Kent's lap.

"Kent, I can already see where this is going." Jeff says, sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch. "Please don't make the same mistake."

"Jeff," Kent whispers. "It's not the same. _He's_ not the same."

And then it clicks for Jeff. It'll be different. This is the kind of thing Kent needs. Whiskey isn't Jeff. Hell, Whiskey isnr _Jack._ Whiskey is new.  
  


Whiskey wakes up in the early hours of the morning, face pressed against something warm and soft. It takes his brain a moment to register that he's not back at Samwell, in his room.

Then he realizes the thing he's laying on is a person. Then he realizes that it's Kent Parson.

Whiskey scrambles up, waking Kent in the process.

Whiskey slides over to the other end of the couch. "I'm sorry," he gasps out.

"No! No, you're fine, it was fine," Kent says, his eyes wide.

Whiskey feels embarrassed. There's only one other time that he's done that, back at Samwell, after a kegster, he woke up sprawled across Dex, who then had to explain that he had a boyfriend.

Kent changes the subject, which Whiskey is glad about. "Are you ready for the game?"

"Yes."

Kent notices that there isn't even a hint of doubt in his voice. That's what scares him. Whiskey is exactly like Jack, the same determination that he had, the same habit of pretending to be ok.  
  


Maybe Whiskey is okay, but Kent definitely isn't.

He shouldn't fall for him. He's exactly like Jack, in a way that is impassible. He can't do this, can he?

How the hell is he going to get through this game?

Whiskey is beyond frightened. He isn't an overly emotional guy, but still, he feels like he's going to throw up.

He gets a text from Bitty right before the game starts.

 **Eric (Bitty)**  
Good luck! We're all rooting for you!  
 **Eric (Bitty)**  
Even Jack!

Whiskey takes a deep breath. He can do this.

He follows the team onto the ice, all of them gliding out, looking graceful, but then there's Whiskey. An awkward twenty one year old, follow a bunch of experienced guys.

He doesn't really know what to do, so he nabs up a puck and skates laps for the entire warmup.

There's a lot of fans, and the second he spots _Jack fucking Zimmermann_ wearing his jersey, he damn near faints.

He's sitting next to an overexcited Bittle, and Whiskeys heart jumps out of his chest. Now he's extra nervous.

The clock runs out on warmups, and suddenly, Connor is back in the tunnel, standing next to Kent, waiting for their cue to skate out.

"Jack's here," Connor whispers.

"Yeah. I know." Kent says. "He's not wearing my jersey though. He's wearing yours."

"Yeah I saw." Connor trails.

And just like that, in a blur, the entire team is hitting the ice while the fans cheer. Connor's nerves instantly dissipate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating for such a long time! Miss Rona hit and I lost motivation, between online schooling and actually sleeping, I forgot!  
> .......  
> Also, I feel like I predicted the future because Whiskey got Bitty's dibs.


End file.
